Se Forhtung
by MockJayPhoenix12
Summary: The only clear thought in my head is that I must get to Arthur- but where is he? Non-slash.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- I've almost finished this story, but still, I'm posting this with a warning- even the ending that will come is a bit inconclusive, simply because 'Arthur's destiny in modern-day England' seems too large-scale a story for me to handle. So… consider yourselves warned. :)

**This one is set after "Drencan" in my "Laughlines" series. The chapters are itty-bitty, as you see. The whole thing is present tense, Merlin's first person.**

**Another thing- I began this with the intention of writing a creepy-thriller. I'm not sure it really comes off that way at all, but you tell me! (That's a subtle hint that I love reviews.) ;D**

**3-19-13**

**Se Forhtung**

**Chapter 1**

The rain is the first thing I'm aware of, a pounding head being the next. I raise a wavering hand over my eyes and force myself to sit up as I take in my surroundings.

I'm on the shore of an Avalon that the combined shower and winds have in frenzy. It was mid-afternoon that I last remember, and to all appearances, no time has passed. The sky's bleak, grey tint darkens with an approaching storm, but I remember last seeing it in almost exactly the same state- yet that now seems a distant memory. How much time has passed? Of greater importance, what happened in that stretch of time?

_Arthur_. I'm stumbling to my feet the moment he crosses my mind. He should have been first thought I became aware of, but I fantasized his existence for so long that- at times- I still have trouble accepting his actuality.

I close my eyes, holding my head in hopes that it will keep me from falling over as standing abruptly threatens to do. When I dare look up again, my vision still swims, but I can't afford to wait any longer to recover my equilibrium. I have to find Arthur. While I'm unsure how I know it, the one thing I really believe right now is that he's in danger- though of what is beyond my knowledge.

Even as I glance over the lake and along the shore, calling Arthur's name, I worry that I may not see or hear him because of the rain. It's so loud now, I can hardly think. Though it's small help, I cover my ears, shielding them as I wonder what to do.

I think he was with me before I lost consciousness, but that can't be, because Arthur would never have left me in this state, regardless of the fact that I can't be killed. He might have gone to get help- which he knows better than to do. I've not been in need of a physician's help for many centuries, and Arthur knows the hazard should my immortality be discovered. And if he even thought that I needed help, he'd have brought me to a doctor himself- no, he wouldn't have left me of his own will.

Except to draw the danger away from me. It's the only reasonable idea in my possession, and the vague memory that I can't presently access might account for my sense of fear.

I run as fast I deem wise into the trees, beyond which I'll find the small town that has grown around the Lake of Avalon. Under different circumstances I'd head for the cottage, but Arthur wouldn't lead anything or anyone who poses a threat to a place he knows I would go to find him. And with any luck- which I can surely use- someone in town has seen him, and can give me an idea of what peril my friend and I now face.

I skid to a stop in front of the first building I reach. It's a little coffee shop that Arthur and I frequent these days, and the woman who works here is one of the few who doesn't seem to find us strange. She looks up suddenly when I throw the door open. Once inside, I have to grip the side of the counter to keep myself upright.

"Megan," I say, catching my breath, "I need to know if you've seen Arthur."

She stares at me like I've lost my mind, and my patience for an answer only goes so far.

"Megan, please!" I cry. "He might be in danger!"

Still wide-eyed with confusion, she shakes her head. "Philip, who are you talking about?"

"Arthur!" I tell her quickly, absently wondering why she's called me by a name I haven't used in decades. "Please, just tell me when you last saw him."

My head spins from the shouting, but I'm able to read the further perplexity on Megan's face. I'm about to question her again when a hand of fear seems to catch my throat.

What if Arthur really _has_ been an hallucination? I know for what I think of as sure that Megan has spoken to Arthur herself in the past. She would know who he is- unless I imagined all of that, too.

I back out away from the counter, fumble to open the door and once again I'm running down the street, though this time I'm unsure of my direction. I just can't face the possibility, even if it _were_ true- it would be too hard to accept another time…

I stop myself in the middle of the street, standing still in what now is almost complete dark. The clouds roll overhead, bringing further sheets of rain. The drops are like ice on my skin, but I'm no colder than I already was, except in my heart, which is frozen with fear.

Too late I hear the blaring horn of a car, and turn in time to be blinded by the headlights before I'm slammed to the ground. What would have crippled another man stuns me for but a moment, and I'm pulling myself to my feet as the driver's door opens.

"Are you alright, mate?" they call in a panicky voice. I don't reply. I'm too busy regaining my feet, already racing back to Avalon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Where the notion that Arthur is in grave peril is enough to set me trembling, the idea that he hasn't even been alive these past months is horrific. Can I trust my sanity enough to take what I think are memories over the proof I just witnessed? Perhaps some evil sorcery has befallen Megan to make her forget- perhaps someone wants to erase all memories of Arthur.

I'm not even sure it isn't going too far to indulge these thoughts, but anything is better than a reality without Arthur, mistaken though this one may be.

The lake is as turbulent as the high-tide ocean when I arrive, and pitch dark. Lightning has begun to strike, however, and flashes almost constantly in what is the worst storm I've ever seen around Avalon.

"Arthur!" I cry out repeatedly as I walk down the shore, often drowned out by the thunder's rumbling. I can make something out up ahead now, and while it's too large to be a person, it raises my hopes and I hurry forward.

Only when I'm up on it, feeling its bow do I realize it's a boat, and with as much speed as the lightning bolts all around, a memory strikes.

"_Merlin!" _Arthur was calling my name. We were out on the lake, standing in this very boat upon my last memory. His voice- he sounded so afraid. What could have happened to him?

It's long been a fear of mine that the Sidhe would somehow take Arthur back beneath the waters of Avalon. I can't let that happen- I won't- but what if it's already been done?

Without further thought, I drive the boat back into the water. Though the tide objects, I push away from the shore, using all my strength to paddle with the oar.

Then I remember that no sane man will be out in this storm to see me here. I replace the oar to the boat floor, and propel the small vessel with magic thereon. I can't keep it entirely steady against the waves, however, and crouch low as my boat sails to the island at the heart of Avalon- where I found Arthur washed up onto the shore four months ago.

I hobble upland after landing, and begin to circle the island. Whatever it is I'm looking for, I can't seem to find it.

Arthur is nowhere in sight.

Uneasiness creeps over me as I search within the ruins of the first floor of the tower. Fortunately I needn't go any farther, for the stairs have long broken away. The top half of this tower crumbled down centuries ago. It's through these fragmented stones scattered across the back half of the island that I now search.

The eerie feeling only heightens as I wander farther through. It's a bit of a maze really, some of the stones rising a few feet over my head, and sometimes I lose all sight of the lake. As I reach a place where I can again see my surroundings, I realize that I'm once more out of breath, this time in fright, and I stop to catch it.

I open my mouth to call Arthur's name again, but something stops me. Some instinct, or perhaps a purely ungrounded fear warns me to be silent. I can pinpoint this feeling, and it comes from behind me.

Slowly, I turn around.

There, on the farther shore, stands a figure with white, ghostlike skin, cloaked in black. I rub my eyes and shield them from the rain to be certain when I take a second look.

Even now, can I be sure? If I can hallucinate Arthur, am I not capable of imagining others as well? For I know by the dread in my heart that the person across the lake bodes evil, and cannot be an ordinary man.

He doesn't move. I suppose I'd be more startled if he _did_- but there's something altogether unnerving about the stillness. Familiar, almost.

I can't get out of here fast enough. I hurry through the rest of the ruins, cold panic causing my heart to race when I'm in those blind spots where all I can see is the stone around me. I have to get out… I can only hope that Arthur is safe somewhere- somewhere far away…

"_Emrys."_

I turn and stand as still as death itself. No. I didn't hear that. It just isn't possible.

…But if Arthur can come back from the dead- why couldn't Mordred?

The moments pass slowly before I'm able to force myself to move again- though after I've begun, it would be no use to try to stop me. I race down the side of the island, not daring to look back because I know that he'll be closer somehow.

My fear gains further control with each passing second and when I hit the boat, I'm already ordering it to move. It does my will of course, but not fast enough, especially on the raging tide which still seems to run against me. I've not gotten far from the island when I turn around, almost without thinking.

He's there. Just as I'd feared, he now stands on the edge of the island shore, close enough to be easily recognized. He holds a sword in front of him, its point resting in the sand.

And he's completely still- just watching me. I stare back with pure shock that I don't even think to conceal. What right has he to be here?

I force myself to look at him, worried that if I turn away, he'll move to the shore that I'm hastening to reach. But when my boat goes over a particularly rough wave, I fall face-forward to the floor. I've caught myself, but in the moment I wasn't looking at Mordred, he's disappeared. In fact, he's on none of the shores within my sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My legs are unsteady when finally I step onto the land, though whether that's the effect of the rough waves or my fright is a question. It's with an effort that I make myself walk into the trees, for the darkness knows no limit beneath these old branches. I start in the direction of the town, but stop myself.

I'm moving too fast, not thinking clearly. Where would Arthur be? Megan hadn't seen him…

At all. She didn't even know who he was. I can't go on what I judge to be reasonable when something so simple doesn't make sense. I haven't checked the cottage yet. He might very well have gone back.

As I change course, I stop with a startled cry- Mordred blocks my path. He's only a few feet away now, and there's a remote, ashen glow to his clothes and face that makes him clearly visible. He wears black armor beneath his cloak, as on the day he died, but it's the sword that catches my attention. A small shard of the blade is missing. Upon seeing it, anger rises within me. The missing shard is what cost Arthur his life.

I shouldn't recognize Mordred, given the fifteen hundred years that have passed since I saw him- but his face has haunted my dreams to this day, and I could never forget that of the man who murdered Arthur.

I stare back at him, now gritting my teeth bitterly. How many times have I wished that I might have gone back in time and slain him by my own hand before he'd killed my best friend?

Do I have that chance now?

"You can't be here," I tell the apparition quite plainly. I'm truly hoping that this much _is_ my imagination, though his presence feels just as real as Arthur's has.

Mordred doesn't so much as twitch. It unnerves me further because I'm already so tense at the mere sight of him.

"Will you not speak to me?" I ask with every effort to hide my unease.

He smiles. It's a cold, dark smile on his sheet-white face and it chills me all over.

I want to press him further, to draw some answer out of him. I know it's very likely to be useless, but what else can I do in the face of the druid, my greatest fear?

"What have you done to Arthur?" The words tumble out of their own volition, desperate for a reply, though when Mordred laughs, I'm not sure it's at my desperation or the question itself. "Say something!" I demand, to which he laughs louder.

Though this is scant proof that something bad has happened to Arthur, tears come to my eyes. Mordred doesn't stop laughing, and it's the most hideous sound I've ever heard. I press my palms against my ears, but to no avail. "Stop," I whisper harshly. "Stop."

I only drop my hands again when I turn, to grope through the dark forest.

"_Merlin_…"

At Arthur's voice, I stop and listen, looking frantically around. The sound was impossibly near, for he's nowhere around. Mordred's laughter has stopped and when I look, I find the place where he stood dark and empty again.

"Arthur!" I cry. My voice doesn't seem to carry, and I doubt anyway that Arthur would hear me, from wherever he is. "Arthur, please!"

But there's no sound anymore, save for the rolling of the thunder that these trees tightly shelter me from. They do little for the rain, however I'm already as wet as I could be, and I've hardly had the chance to notice the cold.

I _am_ tired, though. The worrying has drained my energy more than the running has. I don't remember the last time I've felt so tired. I can't stop, though. I'll never stop, not before I find Arthur. It doesn't matter how long it takes.

I waited more than a millenium for him. My search now is a small effort in comparison.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I've run the entire way to the cottage, but I come to a dead stop in front of the door.

The feeling is here again- that creeping fright that I'm being watched. I force the door open. Though stepping inside plunges me into further darkness, I shut the door behind me. I'll not face him again if I can avoid it.

I grope for the light switch and flip it on, but nothing happens. I fiddle with a couple more in the living room before deciding that the power is down. Incredible timing.

The feeling becomes closer than before, and I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

"At long last, Emrys, after all these lonesome years… It must be so hard. Because you still haven't won, have you?"

It takes me but a moment to place her voice. "I never thought I'd see you again, Morgana."

"And yet, here I am." She radiates a cold light as Mordred did, but somehow appears more alive. Maybe it's the sneer that she wears, or that she's spoken to me as the druid refused to. I was frightened when I saw Mordred, but the sight of Morgana has made me tense with a deep, resentful anger.

"I killed you."

She chuckles. "As Mordred killed Arthur- but you believe that your beloved king has returned to you, do you not?"

I used to be patient with her taunts, but now- not knowing where Arthur is or even _if_ he's alive- I'm in no mood to ignore them. "He's more real than you've ever been, even now when I have no idea what's become of him. You're a shadow, Morgana, a shell, a corpse that only exists to contain the bitterest of hatred."

She sits down on the arm of the sofa, several feet away from me, yet still too close. "Let's not pretend you haven't seen your dark days, Merlin," she tells me with a cruel smile.

I won't be baited to go there. "You'll tell me where he is," I say in a low voice, one I hope she'll heed.

But her smile widens. "You've always thought you're so much better than me, Merlin- that hiding who you really were and watching our kind beheaded and burnt at the stake was the noble thing to do."

"You have no idea how hard that was!" I burst out, but she continues as if I haven't spoken.

"And when the truth came out, you crawled into a hole beside Avalon to die alone, and convinced yourself that you weren't selfish to abandon your friends- especially when you went into the lake for what you thought would be the last time."

How can she know about that? "It was years ago," I remark with a frown.

"And if you thought it would work, wouldn't you try again?" She speaks as if she knows the answer.

But she doesn't. I have Arthur now. And I haven't waited as long as I have just to lose him. "Tell me _where he is_," I demand in a controlled voice.

"Do you threaten me, Merlin?" she asks incredulously. "You know you can't harm someone who's already dead. A ghost, however, is more than capable of destroying a living thing."

My frown loosens when I realize what she's telling me. I start across the living room to her. "What have you done?"

My hand is outstretched to seize her by the neck, but when I reach her, she disappears. The house is thrown into darkness again, and I look about myself in vain, listening for her steps, for Arthur's voice, or anything that can tell me what's going on.

"Why won't you face me, Morgana?" I shout. It should sound stranger than it does, as I'm all alone. But I'm too worried for Arthur to worry for my sanity just now.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

How long has it been since I woke by the shore of Avalon? I feel as if so much time has passed; yet a brief glimpse of the moon between rolling clouds tells me the night is young.

I'm outside again, looking into the trees with a hand shielding my eyes from the rain. I know one of them is nearby. The sense of dread is strong as ever, but neither Mordred nor Morgana is anywhere in sight.

And why? Did they lure me here away from Arthur? Perhaps he's in danger right now- as if either of us has ever been safe.

I make out a face in the darkness, coming closer. I see that it's Mordred when he emerges from the trees, and strange though it is, I feel hope at the sight of him. He stops just a few feet from me, resting the tip of his sword on the ground before him again. Despite how real he looks, the rain doesn't touch him.

After he's near enough to speak with, I won't waste another moment. "What have you done to Arthur?"

Mordred shakes his head. "I've not done anything to Arthur- not since that day." His voice is as cold as his appearance.

"Then _where_ _is_ he?" I step closer- maybe just to suggest that I'm not afraid of the apparition, even though I am.

Undaunted, Mordred smiles. "Oh, Emrys," he remarks. "One thousand, five-hundred years of denial. For what?"

"I know you've seen him! Tell me where he is!" I really doubt that I could contain my despair, even in the face of one who's cost me so much, who I'd like nothing better than to kill here and now- ghost, hallucination or neither. "I've spoken to Morgana," I tell him. "You must know what she told me."

"I'm not responsible for what she told you," Mordred says, with feigned pity. "Or for her actions. Of the past; of the present."

"Then she's killed him?" I suggest. I'm scared to death that this is the truth, but either way, I just need to _know_.

"No," Mordred replies. "No, we haven't touched him."

"Then you're going to?" I press.

Mordred stares at me a moment. "Arthur is dead, Emrys," he tells me. "He died at this lake fifteen-hundred years ago. He's never returned; he can't. He wasn't like you- he was a mortal."

"No, no," I mutter, turning and walking away. It isn't so; Mordred only tells me this to frighten me, to anger me-

"He'll never come back, Emrys," he continues, following me closely. "No matter where you go, or what phantoms your imagination conjures, that won't change."

"Stay away!" I demand, turning to speak right in his face. "Go away, Mordred, and don't ever bother me or Arthur again."

"You're a coward, Emrys!" Mordred spits as I walk away again. "You can't face that you're alone- that you've always been alone."

No. I can't, and I _won't_, because this is all a trick; Arthur must be here…

When I stumble, I fall to my knees and don't get up again. It's true. I know it deep down, but the pain, the _loneliness_ is too much to bear.

"Just accept it, Emrys." Only vaguely I hear Mordred's impertinent voice from where I kneel crying. "He's never coming back. You can wait another thousand years, a million years, but that won't ever change."

Furious, I spring to my feet and lunge at him, but stop when he lifts his sword point to my throat with a grin.

"Forged on a dragon's breath," he says. "It's capable of a great many things- but can it kill an immortal?"

I've wondered this myself in lower moments, but never has an answer been clear. If what he says about Arthur is true, then I'm more than willing to find out, but can anything be killed by the sword of an illusion?

When I lift a hand to touch the blade, my fingers pass through. I smile less than kindly back at Mordred. "I suppose it can't."

He sheathes the sword, his face again solemn. "You know then, that I'm only a spirit, Emrys, and the same of Morgana. Do you know where Arthur's spirit is?"

My expression hardens. "It's with his body," I say.

"No. His spirit was taken by the Sidhe. Only bones remain of his body- they lie in the lake where you sank him centuries ago. His spirit sleeps, Emrys, and it will never wake again."

"You're wrong."

"Oh? Why do you think you're immortal, Emrys? The Sidhe are immortal. They're who gave you your immortality."

"Why would they do that?" I press.

Mordred is grimly pleased to tell me. "So that you would live to the world's end- alone all of your days. The perfect punishment."

The Sidhe elder I destroyed. This is their revenge. But could anyone, even the Sidhe, be this cruel?

"Merlin."

I glance up instantly at the sound of my friend's voice. "Arthur!" Where did it come from? I'm searching the skies, waiting to hear it again. "Arthur, where are you?"

My eyes fall to Mordred when I hear him laughing again. "Where is he?"

The druid shakes his head at me. "You'll never find him, Emrys."

"Merlin!"

I frown up at the sky again. "I hear you!" I cry with concern, for his voice holds immense worry- such worry that it seems to fill my own heart. It's so strong now that I feel I can hardly breathe, and I'm putting forth energy I don't even possess when I call out again. "Arthur, where are you?"

But my mouth makes no sound.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

My eyes flash open to view the blur of a warmly lit ceiling before I'm consumed by a single thought- I'm choking. I roll onto my side in an instant, coughing up more water than I'd have thought possible, were it not for that one time.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I choke water out all over the rug, but even in the midst of my most violent shudders, I'm aware of the shaking hands that hold my shoulders, patting and then rubbing my back. In spite of all my recent doubts, I know who it is. I can just sense that it's Arthur, but I tilt up a heavy head because I want to see his face.

In a single look I know that he's been as worried as I have, because all my relief is reflected there in his own expression. And he's clearly been crying.

We're in the living room, in front of the lit fireplace. It's dark outside, but here inside there's enough of a glow from the hearth that I feel safe in its light. I look over at the sofa- no Morgana. I listen, but there are no echoes of Mordred's laugh. There's no one at all here now but Arthur and me.

I let my forehead fall to rest on his knee where he's crouched down beside me. His heavy breaths in my damp hair send cold shivers through me, and suddenly- painfully- I notice that my chest aches, but from more than want of air.

I was drowning. Arthur must have tried to resuscitate me- how then did he get me here?

"I thought I'd lost you, Merlin," he whispers now, rubbing my head and back with trembling hands. I'd reassure him that I'm all right, but I'm still coughing too hard to speak- and when I'm not, I'm just struggling for breath. I want to at least reach up and touch his shoulder- but the memory of what got us out on that lake is rushing back to me.

I was confused from the first about why Arthur had returned at this time. The united kingdoms were in no danger that I knew of, and after four months, I've been growing anxious. We'd decided to meet with the Sidhe, if only to discover why they'd healed his body and restored his life. I wanted to go alone, but of course Arthur wouldn't allow it. We took a boat out onto the lake to avoid unwanted notice, and would have waited for nightfall besides, but then came the storm.

Although I knew it was a sign that the keepers of Avalon did not wish to grant an audience, I sought one anyway. I called them twice, but the storm grew only more violent with no reply from the Sidhe.

Then I saw it- in the heart of Avalon, down beneath the water, was the glowing kingdom where Arthur slept for centuries. I could see some of them, members of the city floating about. They came closer, but before they'd quite reached us, I felt myself pulled out of the boat and was held under the water. My efforts to resist were useless- I was so weak against them. I couldn't breathe, and for the first time in many years, that was a problem.

"You were ca- calling for me," I say now between coughs, lifting my head to look at Arthur. "What happened?"

Arthur wipes his nose, attempting in vain to hide the effect of his distress, but his other hand never leaves my back. "When I got you away from them, I hauled you into the boat, and… well, I rowed like hell. The storm got worse, much worse, and after we'd reached the shore I had to get us to shelter. …I didn't have time to check if you were okay."

After a moment, I realize he doesn't hesitate of his own accord, but to prevent himself from releasing a sob. Though every fiber of my being protests the action, I push myself off the floor. When I'm sitting up, Arthur moves closer so that I lean against him with my head on his shoulder as he finally speaks.

"You weren't breathing. I knew then that you hadn't been since I got you out of the water- and that was minutes before. I'd have thought it was all right, for you, but your heart wasn't beating, Merlin. You looked…"

I don't interrupt him, though I _am_ concerned that he really got so worried that even now, he can't just say the word.

"I thought you were," he continues. I feel a shudder go through him and he vigorously rubs my back. "You're still so cold," he remarks, though as we're both soaked, it's little wonder.

"'S not that bad," I mutter- still leaned against Arthur, who's much warmer than I am. And there are far worse feelings than cold. "Hardly even notice."

Arthur's scoff makes me smile. "Your lips are blue," he tells me.

"Oh."

It's after a deep, if not relaxing breath that he again speaks. "The storm's blown over. …We've learnt one thing from the Sidhe. They have no desire to share any knowledge with us- and apparently they want you dead."

But is that all the information we've obtained? "Arthur," I say, lifting my head.

He looks back curiously, waiting for me to continue.

"…I had the worst dream…"

**A/N- I admit I'm in "Sherlock" mode right now, but I'll post the last couple of chapters soon! ;D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N- My sincerest apologies for taking forever to anyone who has so patiently awaited this ending! Actually the next chapter is the ending. **** As always, please tell me what you all think!**

**Chapter 7**

I told Arthur in short what I remembered. Afterward we were too exhausted to do anything but dry off and go to bed, though I was sleepless for a time. I awoke to dawn's first light breaking through the curtains, and got up out of bed- for troubled as I was by the thoughts I've yet to share with Arthur, it would have been little use to try to go back to sleep.

That was nearly an hour ago. In that time, I've hardly moved from where I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, pushing my hair off my forehead to see the gash there. I didn't notice it last night- it's superficial and has hardly bled at all, but the fact that it hasn't healed confuses me, while at the same time, raises my hopes to a ridiculous height. If only I can convince myself that this mark is real…

When I hear Arthur's footsteps, I let my hand fall, and though my fringe remains parted with the cut visible, I make no further effort to conceal it. In the reflection, I see Arthur lean heavily against the open doorway, squinting in the artificial light. He's never been a morning person, and now with his twisted T-shirt, rumpled hair and less than eight hours' sleep following a rough night, no doubt could be held about it. While ignorant of my hopes and troubles, he notices the gash right off, and gently pushes my hair aside to see it better.

He frowns at it for a several seconds before his eyes meet mine with more meaning. I nod in answer to his unspoken question.

"This is why the Sidhe let you save me. Arthur, this-" I point to the cut- "this would have healed by now."

"No." Arthur barely breathes the word.

"They took back the immortality they'd cursed me with- don't you see, Arthur?" I'm smiling now, more overjoyed than I've felt since he returned- more _human_ than I have in ages. "I'm mortal again."

I shouldn't have expected him to share my happiness at this development, but his disappointment suspends my own relief. "You don't know-" he stammers, "you don't know that's what it is."

"Since I became immortal, I haven't had a mark on me that's lasted more than a day, Arthur." I look back into the mirror. "This is hardly even healing."

Arthur leans into the doorframe again, eyes diverted in thought.

"Arthur," I plead. "Don't you understand what this means?"

"Yes," he answers quickly, and spares me a conflicted glance. "I just don't understand… how you can be so delighted about it."

It crosses my mind to tell him I'm not- but that would be an obvious lie. "I've worried for years, Arthur," I explain to him, leaning back against the countertop. "I knew that even after you came back, that eventually, you'd die a mortal death. A _normal_ death, this time, if I have my way. And if you were to leave me like that again, with no promise of return, and myself forced to keep living… I would be little more than a ghost, Arthur."

Such a fate would have been so dreadful that I still can't bear to think of it. Arthur breathes heavily, staring at the wall past me with less than understanding.

"Would _you_ want to live forever?" I question before I can stop myself.

He sighs, troubled by my situation. "No. …Hell, no."

"…Then you do understand?" I ask in a tone that's less harsh.

Arthur studies my face for a long moment. "I still think there's a chance you could be wrong. What reason would the Sidhe have to make you immortal?"

…_Alone all of your days. The perfect punishment._ I know there's more to it. "They must have known I'd protect you when you came back. That I'd teach you how to get on in today's world. Perhaps they weren't trying to kill me last night- they only wanted to take back my immortality so that it'd be easier to have me killed when the time came."

"But what could they want with either of us now, Merlin?"

"They kept you safe all that time, Arthur. …I can only think they mean to use you."

Arthur's frown relaxes. I know his face well enough to interpret his lack of expression as the cover it is- the one he uses to hide his fear. "What could I possibly do for them? I'm not a king anymore; I'm no one."

I smile faintly at that. "No matter your rank, Arthur, that could never be true. You were always meant for great things, just as I was meant to guard your path to them. And there have been so many prophecies, Arthur- different variations, of course, but every story of your return involves some significant situation, some crucial battle. …And many predict you reclaiming the throne of the United Kingdom."

Arthur shakes his head at the floor with a wry smile. "Is this all it is? Just another battle for power- and our lives mere pawns for it?"

It's a dreadful thought, and I'd like nothing better than to tell him it isn't so- only I can't.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N- Ze last chapter! A continuation of the last scene, as I hope is clear. (I had to break it up because it outgrew the 8-10 hundred word quota!)

**Chapter 8**

"How are they using me, Merlin?" Arthur looks back up at me, jaw clenched in frustration.

"I don't know," I answer, my own gaze faltering a bit.

Arthur just stares at me. "You do," he decides. "You don't want to tell me."

"No," I correct him. "…Something similar has happened. You remember Princess Elayna? How you thought she was different that morning of the wedding? She was a changeling, Arthur- possessed by a Sidhe from birth, until Gaius and I rid her of it."

Arthur is more startled than disturbed. "You think I'm possessed by a Sidhe?"

"Look, I just don't know," I confess. "You've shown none of the signs that she did- but I'm not sure what else to think. I'll find out, though, Arthur, I promise."

His face is set. "I'll not be used by them. I don't know what they think they'll get out of it- this is my chance for an ordinary life, and I _am_ going to take it."

"I'm not sure how ordinary you'll find life these days," I murmur in reply.

Arthur studies me closely. "You don't think I mean it, do you?" he asks, half-doubtful himself.

"I know you, Arthur," I tell him simply. "I know if it comes down to a choice- whether you become the leader that people need you to be-"

"These aren't my people," Arthur cuts me off. "I don't… _understand_ them, or know what they're like, even. They simply aren't my own."

"You wish harm on them, do you?" I ask lightly.

"Of course not, Merlin, but-"

"Then you're willing to protect them." I raise my hands almost in defense. "Arthur, I know it's not the same as it used to be, or the way that it should be. But I remember your sense of 'greater good.' And I'll always trust you to do the right thing. I know you'll protect anyone who you think deserves it."

He won't admit it, stubborn as he is, but he realizes my point. I can see it in his eyes. He looks back to me slowly. "…You're sure the Sidhe weren't trying to kill you last night?"

"Pretty sure."

Something like a grin covers Arthur's face. "Here I thought I was just a good swimmer."

I chuckle a bit at that.

"_You_ shouldn't laugh- you're the one who taught me, after all." (A/N- see 'To Swim or Not to Swim')

"…I-" Rummaging through my memories, I leave the question hanging.

"You don't remember?" Arthur asks.

Try as I might, I just don't- but I'd really rather not admit it.

"It's alright, you know," he tells me softly, though I can tell he's not untouched by this.

"…So much time passed," I explain. "I can't begin to tell you how much I've forgotten. But there are a lot of memories- many concerning you, Arthur- that were too precious to ever forget." I reach far back to prove it to him. "When the Crystal of Neahtid was stolen, because your keys had been taken from your chambers, you lied to your father to protect me."

The memory dawns on Arthur's face. "I was so angry with you for that," he recalls aloud. "I shouted at you; I treated you like _dirt_ for it- but it wasn't even your fault, was it?"

"You had cause to think it was," I remind him. "And you hated coming short of Uther's expectation."

"…Do you remember when I threw water over you?" Arthur can't keep his hope off his face. I'm glad not to have to disappoint him.

"You put me in a chokehold, ruffled my hair and assured me you weren't fat," I say, folding my arms. "It was always so hard for you to express your feelings."

"I thought it cheered you up," Arthur defends.

"It did," I affirm.

"But it was a clumsy attempt?"

"No- yes." I have to laugh a bit, mostly in the face of my friend's good-humored annoyance. "From anyone else, it would have been confusing," I tell him. "But I understood you, so instead it proved to me that you'd noticed I'd been unhappy. That you _did_ care, in spite of everything."

Arthur gives a weak smile. "I'm sorry that you ever had to doubt it."

His admission throws me off. I can't tell him that I _didn't _ever doubt his concern for me- there were many times when I did, especially in those early days.

When the silence grows uncomfortable, I go back to our original topic. "You know… it's a lot harder to find information about the old religion these days- so much has been fictionalized- but after a while, I started keeping everything I could get my hands on."

"But subjects on Sidhe magic?"

"Especially them. Anything involving Avalon, Arthur, I've kept- though now, I'm not so familiar with types of human possession- inhabitance," I amend, deeming it a gentler word. "I'm going to go look in the basement- do you want to come?"

"If you think I can help," he replies- and grabs my arm before I can pass him. "Merlin- please don't think…" He sighs at himself. "Don't think I'm _not,_ happy for you- it's only that now… I'm afraid I'll lose you."

"Welcome to my world." It was my instinctive response, though once spoken, I see it's truly not as humorous as I meant it to be. Arthur doesn't even smile, but is dead serious about this whole thing- and well he should be. "You won't lose me," I assure him.

"How did I know you'd say that?" he replies half-heartedly before once more sobering altogether. "But last night…" He releases my arm, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I know it's not fair of me- after everything that you-"

"Tell me," I prompt, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me."

I watch his façade crumble to its knees, and the last night's scare comes back to him full and hard. "For an hour that was like a day, I thought you dead, Merlin, and I've never felt so alone and-… so lost without you. I just never want risk that."

"I understand," I whisper. "Better than anyone, I understand that." I pull him into my arms as I speak.

Arthur wedges his face between my neck and shoulder, hugging me back with strength he was afraid to use last night. It's difficult to breathe, given my still-sore ribs and chest, but I resign myself to the hindrance.

As always, he's worth his trouble.

A/N- I hope you all liked reading this story as much as I liked writing it- though there's a singular pleasure that comes with creating one's own story, as probably all of you will understand. How long can anyone read fanfiction before breaking down and writing some of their own? Reviewing is so easy with that little box now- just thought I'd mention. ;)


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